


• Lessons at Midnight •

by ShesGoneRogue



Series: Visions of Crema [4]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Charmie - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Come play, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 15:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesGoneRogue/pseuds/ShesGoneRogue
Summary: It's the last scene of the night and they've been laying here in the still heat with Armie pressed to him just so for what feels like an eternity. He closes his eyes and silently wills Luca to call it before he completely loses his shit.Alternatively:Armie thinks it's time Timothée learns to let go a little...





	• Lessons at Midnight •

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the absolutely Lovley inspirational image to @sexualthorientation  
> And a million thanks for her endless patience and invaluable suggestions in beta'ing my nonsense.  
> I couldn't do it without you!  
> *mil besitos, mijita*
> 
>  
> 
> As always, all mistakes are my own and most likely came about in my incessant post-beta tweaking.

 

 

The camera pans around the room--the only sounds are soft breathing and the silken shift of skin on skin.

Timothée is sweating. He swallows back a groan as Armie shifts his half-hard cock against him again. A deep vibration grows stronger in his core with every passing minute.

It's the last scene of the night and they've been laying here in the still heat with Armie pressed to him _just_ so for what feels like an eternity. He closes his eyes and silently wills Luca to call it before he completely loses his shit.

"Cut! Penso che ce l'abbiamo. Good work, boys." Luca’s so casual about it--completely unaware that Timothée is just about ready to crawl out of his own skin.

He feels Armie immediately relax on top of him, settling in instead of moving off him as expected. Timothée goes completely rigid, eyes fixed on a crack in the ceiling above.

"Guys, can you give us a minute, please?" Armie politely asks and covers him further, tucking Timothée protectively beneath his bulk.

Timothée clings with gratitude, his chest flushed, fingers locked into claws to hold Armie tight as he bites his lip and waits for the response, half expecting laughter.

"Ovviamente. Take all the time you need--we're done for the day."

He hears the shuffle of several pairs of feet as Luca quietly shoos the crew out, and then the soft creak and click of the door closing behind them.

Everything is finally still.

"Hey, you okay?" Armie's voice, soft and full of concern.

Timothée bites his lip harder and shakes his head. An emphatic 'no'.

A large warm palm slides over his jaw, cupping his cheek and making him drag his eyes off the ceiling.

Armie's face is a study in empathy. "T....it's okay. Relax."

"It's unprofessional. I'm sorry." Timothée’s voice shakes with the knocking of his heart.

Armie leans in and kisses him softly on the corner of his mouth and then draws back. "It's been a long day, and I think we're beyond apologies...don't you? We crossed that line a long time ago."

Timothée blinks up at him, his head swimming as he tries to read him. Lines? Yes, they'd definitely crossed lines--more and more every day, but they'd been good. They'd kept themselves in check. Mostly. This was different. Uncharted territory. His brow furrows, the lack of blood oxygen to his brain preventing Armie's words from making sense.

Armie shifts his thigh back between Timothée's again, deliberately pressing, his chin lifting and lips parting as he looks down at him knowingly, acutely making the point his words never could.

Oh. _Oh!_ Timothée gasps and grinds against the friction without a conscious effort.

 _Point made_.

"Let me help you." Armie whispers, obligingly rubbing against the upward tilt of Timothée's groin.

Timothée catches himself, stays motionless for a heartbeat as Armie shifts again, more insistent, and his eyes slam shut with the pleasure of it.

"T..." The rest of it goes unspoken. For all of his ‘bull in a china shop’ talk, Armie is eloquent in his actions. There's no need for more words.

Timothée nods, desperate, unable to do anything else in that moment.

Armie bends down and whispers against his skin between kisses along his jaw, "I've got you. It's okay," making Timothée pant in a ragged staccato. He slides his hand gently down Timothée's side, grabs his hip, and then suddenly they’re rolling over. Armie a solid foundation beneath him.

Timothée pushes up onto shaky arms, dazed with how quickly everything has changed. His vision is hazy, wet mouth trembling as he haltingly rolls his hips against Armie's with pained little gasps.

Armie smiles up at him tenderly, his hands warm and strong on his hips, encouraging him to move faster. Harder.

Timothée is hesitant, his movements unsure and timid. Intrusive thoughts about how this could affect the rest of filming try to encroach and make him pull back. But he wants this... _oh_ , how he's wanted this for _so long_ now. He mewls quietly, torn between desire and the reality of what could happen if he gives in fully.

The little noises he's making are having an obvious effect on Armie, making his eyes darken further. "Go ahead, baby-- take what you need. Don't be afraid. I can take it." His voice is thick with lust, the grip on Timothée’s hips becoming even more demanding.

Timothée ruts a little faster, but it's too dry; he's so hard it hurts. His eyes drop to Armie's lips as he licks his own and thinks about how warm and wet Armie’s mouth would feel on his cock.

His thoughts may as well be written on his forehead; Armie seems to read him in an instant and begins nudging him further up with firm pressure until Timothée catches on. In a white haze, he crawls up and straddles Armie’s chest until the tip of his cock is just inches from Armie's face. He takes it in his hand but doesn't move beyond that.

"You want this."

Timothée nods with a soft whimper, one hand braced on the wall behind the headboard, the other squeezing himself almost cruelly.

"Tell me. _Say_ it."

Timothée shudders, draws in a gulping breath for courage, and whispers, "Suck my cock, Armie."

Armie grins and bites his bottom lip, his eyes sparkling. "Make me."

"Asshole," He fires back with a nervous laugh and gives every indication that he's ready to bolt--his body tensing up, knees shuffling back.

Armie's fingers dig into his hips painfully, his face going dead serious. "I said. **Make. Me.** "

Timothée hisses at the pinching grip and inches forward again, his jaw dropping as his head brushes over Armie's chin and gets closer to his lips. "Open," he pants.

Armie parts his lips, tongue darting out to wet them. Even here, in this raw moment, he’s the picture of control. Confidence. The steady hand that has guided Timothée in so many ways, and now, in this. He never looks away from the building intensity of Timothée's gaze.

"Fuck..." Timothée says, a growl rumbling under his breath. "Do that again."

Armie sticks the tip of his tongue out. Cheeky bastard.

Timothée pushes forward, a soft cry in the back of his throat as the tip of his cock finds the warm, wet velvet of Armie's tongue. " _More_ ," he whispers.

Armie finally lets his eyes close, opening wider and flattening his tongue in a blatant invitation.

Timothée holds the base of his cock in a firm grip in the crook between his thumb and index finger, the others curling down to knead his sack as he shifts his hips back and forth in tiny little rocks, dragging the underside of the head back and forth across Armie's tongue. He's already dangerously close to coming.

"Armie—," he says, voice breaking.

Armie looks up at him gives a little nod, his hands already pulling him forward.

Timothée pushes in slowly with a shaky moan, his eyes rolling back as Armie's wet heat moves down his shaft.

Armie closes his mouth around him giving a gentle suck, the pressure and vibration sending ripples through Timothée's core. "Oh _fuck_...oh _god_. Yes." he shudders between increasingly ragged breaths.

Armie lifts his head off the pillow and takes in more of him. When he moans long and deep around him, it’s all too much. Timothée's hips begin to jerk in little spasms while he stutters his name. "I'm gonna come- fuck...Armie!"

Armie stares up at him intensely, sucking harder, holding him tight when he tries to pull out.

Timothée looks down at him, stunned that he's not letting him go. The look in Armie's eyes is the final straw...his balls draw up and with a sharp cry he's coming, pulsing hard down the back of Armie’s throat in thick spurts.

Armie's eyes are fierce, a vein bulging in his forehead, face turning red as he tries to deep throat Timothée's cock from such an odd angle. He manages it though, greedily sucking down every drop as Timothée bucks and gasps with a high pitched whine that's bound to carry beyond the walls of their room.

After countless minutes, Armie finally pulls off, lapping delicately and grinning as Timothée jerks and shudders with over-stimulation. He eases Timothée off of him and gently lays him over on his back. All the whie he's kissing him softly, his hand already on his own cock, a slow rhythm building as he shifts over and straddles Timothée's narrow hips.

Timothée is in a daze, floating on a high unlike anything he's ever known. He watches with a sense of detached wonder as Armie lowers himself just enough to nuzzle the warm, wet bulk of his softening erection between his cheeks. He jolts and crashes back into the moment when Armie groans and circles his hips, smashing his ass down on Timothée's oversensitzed cock as he strokes himself harder and faster.

Timothée hisses at the feel of Armie's heat pressed against him and the pantomime of how Armie would ride him if he were still hard. His eyes flick back and forth from his face to the blur of his sliding hand. He can tell he's close. Timothée moves his hands to Armie's thighs, fingers clawing into the firm muscles there. "Come on me,” he urges. ”Come on me, Armie."

Armie grunts and grits his teeth, "You want it?"

He nods, breathless and wrecked. "Yes, please."

The room is stifling in the summer heat, even at midnight and with the shutters open. They're both slick with sweat and pink from exertion. Sweat drips off Armie's chin, dotting Timothée's pale skin and mingling with the drops of pre-come he squeezes from his thick cock with every random slow stroke he uses to tease himself. "Don't ever say you didn't know."

Timothée arches up beneath him in answer, pressing himself up against Armie's ass and his tight sack.

Armie throws his head back and cries out, almost howling as the first hot surge shoots out and splashes over Timothée's abdomen and chest. He quickly looks down again, panting, greedily drinking in the sight of his come marking Timothée's skin.

All the while, Timothée's fingers are digging into his thighs and he's mindlessly chanting under his breath, " _I love you I love you I love you_." He moves one hand to smear Armie's come over his skin, rubbing it in with a look of complete awe as Armie slowly starts to slump forward.

Armie is careful not to crush him under his weight, instead caging him in between bent elbows and knees as he nudges up under his chin to get him to stop staring at the mess between them and kiss him instead.

He takes his time, licking into Timothée's mouth tenderly as his breath slows enough for him to speak again. "Did you mean that?" he asks, searching Timothée's face as he brushes damp curls off his forehead.

Timothée swallows hard, the realization of what he said out loud sinking in. He nods just the tiniest bit, his eyes wide and nervous.

Armie smiles. "Good." He buries his lips in the curls over Timothée's ear and whispers reverently, "I love you too, Timmy."


End file.
